


The Man with the Fobwatch

by neveralarch



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are hanging over a piranha tank when they notice the fob watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man with the Fobwatch

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Человек с карманными часами](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082955) by [Kollega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kollega/pseuds/Kollega)



> Originally written for a prompt on the best_enemies anonmeme.

The warehouse was silent except for the splash of water and Moriarty’s tuneless whistling. He was fiddling anxiously with something in his pocket, a symptom or a cause of his distraction. He was unshaven and his suit was rumpled. Tired. Hunted. Not sloppy, though, not yet. Sherlock watched him dispassionately as he swung over the piranha tank. Did Moriarty have an obsession with water? It might be a coincidence. The stuff was ubiquitous, after all.

"How much longer before the rope burns through?" asked Moriarty. "John, you have a watch."

"Five minutes," said John, at the same time as Sherlock said "but you have a fob watch right there."

"This doesn't work," said Moriarty. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands, laughing self-deprecatingly. "I don't know why I keep it around."

"You've never tried to open it," said Sherlock. He ignored John's whispers about _five minutes, Sherlock_ and _how are we going to not die this time_. "It's worn, but not aged, and there aren't any scratches around the edge. It's pristine. How do you know it isn't going to work?"

"I know," said Moriarty. He caught his lip in his teeth. "But-"

There was a click, and golden light spilled over Moriarty. When it faded he looked sharper. Not just a loss of exhaustion. Sherlock catalogued a number of shifts in his body language that told him he was dealing with a different man, now.

"May I ask who I’m addressing?" Sherlock asked.

"I am the Master," said the man who had been Moriarty. His pronunciation was more rolling, solid. The shifting accent was gone, settling on slightly-old-fashioned BBC English.

"I'm not calling you that," said John. "Sherlock, what happened to Moriarty? Is he having a BDSM-themed breakdown?"

"No," said Moriarty, but Sherlock ran over him.

"The opening of the watch has triggered a complete physiological and psychological shift in Moriarty. I would have to have more time to examine, but I would suspect the criminal who tied us up here no longer exists."

"He is a part of me," corrected Moriarty. "A small part, admittedly."

"Physiological shift," said John. Sherlock twisted so he could get a good look at John's wondering expression.

"Our friend Moriarty was human," said Sherlock. "I checked extensively. He is no longer."

"It's the two hearts," said Moriarty. His smile was larger and more self-assured. "Dead giveaway."

"I'm not in a position to observe," said Sherlock, nodding up at where his feet were tied to a beam. "But you are breathing with less regularity, and you display none of the basic tremors that humans are prone to."

"He's an alien," said John.

"Yes."

"Will he let us down?"

"Actually, I quite like this," said Moriarty. "Human-me was doing the best he could with very limited supplies. How long have you got?"

"Two minutes," said John, and sighed.

\---

The ropes were almost entirely charred through when a lanky man in a tweed coat and a bow tie charged into the warehouse. He was followed by a couple holding hands; a woman with long red hair and a man with a long nose and a sword.

"Found you!" shouted the lanky man. "What are you doing now? Death traps? Again?"

"Doctor!" Moriarty sounded delighted. He turned to face the man, leaving the couple to sneak around him toward the piranha tank.

"Don't ‘Doctor’ me," said the lanky man. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, pulled them out again, and crossed his arms awkwardly. "Hello. Yes. I'm glad you're alive. I am not glad that you not only didn't tell me you were alive, but also built a criminal empire and have been trying to murder people."

John was talking to the couple as they tried to bring them down from the ropes. Sherlock shushed him, trying to listen in to the conversation.

"...not myself." Moriarty spread his fingers over where his hearts presumably were. "I thought, if it worked the last time I escaped the Time War, why not stick with it?"

"Last time you ended up as a sweet old scientist," said the lanky man. “I liked him.”

"I may have made some changes to the basic parameters of the Chameleon Arch," said Moriarty. "Couldn't put myself through that again."

The rope snapped, and Sherlock caught himself on the lip of the tank, his hands scrabbling on the smooth purchase. Piranhas snapped at his shoes as the couple and John dragged him up and over.

Moriarty and the lanky man had whirled around to watch. Sherlock caught a glimpse of Moriarty’s annoyed expression before his view was blocked by John’s shoulder.

"This has to stop," said the lanky man. "It's ridiculous, and it's evil, and I realize those are both synonyms for 'the Master' but it has to stop anyway."

"I have snipers in the rafters," said Moriarty. "And quite a lot more rope. I can just add you and your companions to the death trap."

"There aren't any snipers," said John. "They would have fired as soon as these three ran in."

"Sorry, I'm still disoriented," said Moriarty. He drew a pistol from a shoulder-holster before anyone could react. "What I meant was, I have a gun and will shoot this lovely girl and this lovely doctor unless you tie yourselves back up. I’ll set up the flame again and we can start all over."

"You're not allowed to call me lovely while you're trying to kill me," complained the lanky man.

"I was referring to Doctor Watson," said Moriarty. "I was trying for a parallel of vulnerable sidekicks."

"Oh," said the lanky man. He twisted to look at John and twisted back again. "Don't call anyone else lovely."

"Stop arguing before he accidentally shoots Amy," said the man with the sword. He put it down carefully and picked up some rope.

\---

"I'm sorry about my nemesis," said the lanky man. Unlike Moriarty, he seemed incapable of remaining still, so his rope swung from side to side, moving him like a pendulum and occasionally bumping him into Sherlock. "I'm the Doctor, by the way, he's the Master. Anyway. I'll get him out of your hair in no time."

"I have the situation under control," said Sherlock. The Doctor swung back, revealing John and his disbelieving expression, but Sherlock paid him no mind. He'd concealed his cell phone in his hands while man without sword – Rory – was tying him up again. Now he was touch-texting Lestrade.

"You really don't have to do anything," said the Doctor. "It's practically my job to keep him from killing people."

"Then you're not very good at it," said Sherlock. "Probably too sentimental."

"Me? Sentimental? No."

"You're shagging him," said Sherlock. He didn’t want to stop texting in order to glare at the Doctor, and he didn’t want to glare distractedly and do a botched job of it. He settled for an abstracted gaze at nothing. "Or you were. It's obvious. And dull."

"It's very interesting and exciting," said the Doctor. "Wait, also, also, we're not shagging."

"Wait, not even in this body?" called Moriarty. "I thought it was sort of quirky and appealing. Is it the stubble? Because I'm already planning out something more stylish. Sideburns? No?"

“You can’t do sideburns properly,” said the Doctor. “You keep trimming them into odd shapes.”

"Doctor, do you only go for men, or only for evil maniacs?" Amy's voice revealed a long-standing infatuation, though, admittedly, so did her next words. "Because I can do the one, but I'm not big on the other."

"Amy!" Rory. He wore a ring, Amy didn’t. She did have a white stripe on her finger where a ring would be. Sherlock presumed she took hers off when wandering into strange warehouses. Practical.

"You said that if I could get him to say yes, you'd do it."

"But not when we're about to be eaten," said Rory. "Also, which one would you do?"

"We're always being eaten," grumped Amy.

Sherlock got ready to hit send on his text, and then paused. "John, I have your phone," he hissed. "What's Lestrade on your speed dial?"

"I haven't set up my speed dial," said John.

"Idiot." Sherlock thumbed a few buttons. "Lestrade, or DI Lestrade?"

"DI," said John.

"Right. How many people do you have in your address book whose names begin with D?"

It took a few minutes to come up with a list and even then it was a gamble, but the Doctor was very good at distracting Moriarty. They were reminiscing about their planet, now, the Doctor with a vague longing and Moriarty with a recently renewed distaste. Something interesting there, and Sherlock stopped texting for a moment.

"Piranhas," sing-songed John, and Sherlock resent the text to a couple other Ds in the address book just in case.

\---

Sirens wailed outside. Moriarty stopped flirting with the Doctor just in time to see Lestrade run into the warehouse.

"Right, put up your hands." Lestrade gestured with the gun he was holding ready.

Moriarty made a face, and said nothing as he complied.

"Donovan, go around and take down Sherlock and them."

Donovan climbed up the ladder and glanced down into the tank. "Fish? Is this a Bond film?"

"This is my fault," said the Doctor. "I didn't know he would take my introduction to Earth pop culture and use it for evil."

"You showed an evil mastermind Bond movies?" asked Rory. "What did you expect to happen?"

"He was only a bit of a mastermind at the time," muttered the Doctor.

"Donovan, these fish are going to kill us if you don't hurry up," said John.

Donovan mumbled a litany about freaks as she started to take Rory down.

\---

Outside was a mess of police cars and an ambulance or two. Sherlock got another blanket for being in shock. He supposed he deserved it even more this time.

"Prison cells won't hold him," said the Doctor, beside him. His eyes tracked Moriarty as he was ducked into a police car. "They haven't before."

"Then I'll catch him again," said Sherlock, sharply.

"Maybe I'll stick around," said the Doctor. "Yes. Make sure the Master doesn't get into any more trouble."

"I'm sure you have other things to do," said Sherlock. "Go do them."

"You're a little standoffish," said the Doctor. "You know, he was my nemesis first."

"The Doctor," said Mycroft, precluding Sherlock's response. He had been hanging around in the crowd for some time, but Sherlock couldn't be bothered to warn the Doctor. He allowed himself a small smile as the Doctor jumped. "A pleasure, sir."

"Oh, hello," said the Doctor.

"I need just a moment of your time," said Mycroft, taking the Doctor's arm and leading him away. Sherlock watched them with narrowed eyes.

"Amy and Rory are nice," said John, wandering up with his own blanket. "A bit weird."

"They're about to get involved in the needs of Her Majesty's Government," said Sherlock, with satisfaction.

"You'll have Moriarty all to yourself, then," said John. "You should send Mycroft a thank-you card."

"Do you think it would confuse him, or just make him pleased?" Sherlock could envisage both possibilities.

"It depends how sappy it is," said John. "Come on, let's go to a card shop before we go home." He tugged on Sherlock's hand, and Sherlock let him pull him along for a moment before disengaging.

"It's my sword," Rory was explaining to a police officer as they passed. "I lost it when I became human again, you see, but we found it again when we visited Rome. I just got it back, so I don't want you confiscating it for evidence."

"And not my handcuffs, either," said Amy.

"What are they for?" asked the officer skeptically.

"Well, sometimes Rory likes-"

"Amy!"

"How many kittens are _just_ too many?" asked Sherlock, as they left earshot. He was tending toward two, but John probably had more experience with card-giving.

"Five," said John, firmly.

"Right. We need a five-cat card for my dear brother."

The sun was setting, Moriarty was in the hands of the law, and the Doctor and his companions were firmly entangled in various degrees of trouble. John was not eaten by piranhas. A good start to the evening, decided Sherlock.


End file.
